Free An Honest Deception by Alicia Quigley Page B

makes little sense, but I think perhaps he is
contemplating my re-marriage.”
    “Your what?”
squealed Isobel. “Do not be ridiculous. As though you would be thinking of
another marriage now, especially to someone of his acquaintance! If you wish to
marry again, I will help you to find a husband.”
    “Such as Lord
Eynsford?” asked Letitia mischievously.
    Isobel colored
slightly. “Am I so obvious? ‘Tis only that he is so very handsome, kind, and
rich, and I think you would deal extremely. But of course it is your choice to
make, Letitia. But surely you would prefer a husband I found to one of
Bainstall’s choosing!”
    Letitia shook her
head with a smile, and then looked back down at her letter. “Perhaps I wrong
him, but do listen to this: ‘You will be surprised to hear from me, Cousin, as
you must be aware of my disapproval of your actions. I was grieved when you
refused the shelter of my home for the frivolous enticements of London and Lady
Exencour’s companionship. But I am pleased to learn that you have moved out of
her home and into one of your own and therefore attempt again to provide you
with the guidance you need. Despite my distrust of Lady Exencour, her husband,
with the exception of his unbecoming levity and his indulgence of his wife’s
odd notions, is accounted a reasonable gentleman, and may have been able to
advise you how best to go on.’” She looked up as Isobel gave a gurgle of
laughter.
    “I must tell
Francis,” she said. “He will be honored. Pray, continue.”
    Letitia smiled and
resumed her reading. “‘However, as head of the family I am responsible for you
despite your flouting of my wishes, and I therefore put pen to paper to counsel
you.’”
    “How vastly
accommodating of him,” observed Isobel. “Your cousin obviously has a passion for
organization.”
    “I think he means
well,” said Letitia, a doubtful note in her voice. “He did not expect to
inherit the title, as my father was still quite young when he died and it was
not inconceivable that he would yet father a son. I fear his new consequence
has gone to Bainstall’s head.”
    “So it seems,” said
Isobel. “What does Lord Bainstall counsel you to do?”
    “That is what I am
wondering,” said Letitia. She picked up the letter again. “‘I recommend to you,
dear Cousin, my friend Archibald Wolfe, Bishop of Mainwaring. He is currently
in residence outside of London, and I have asked him to call on you in hopes
that he may be able to guide your footsteps while you are far from me. He is a
worthy man, a widower these two years, with a sober turn of mind and a good
understanding. I trust you will make yourself agreeable to him. I believe it is
unnatural for a woman to be long without the guidance of a man, and I trust
that Dr. Wolfe will be able to influence you in a positive way.’” Letitia
looked up and met Isobel’s eyes, which were brimming with mischief.
    “Why, Dr. Wolfe
sounds ideal for you, Letitia,” she said. “A sober gentleman, able to cure your
willful ways. I am sure he will make you a perfect husband.”
    “So I am not wrong
in thinking that he means this Dr. Wolfe as a suitor?” said Letitia. “It seemed
very plain to me, and yet I could not imagine that Bainstall would be seeking
to marry me off already. Why, Alfred has been dead only a few months.”
    Isobel picked up
the letter and looked at it curiously. “I would venture that the impropriety of
a young woman living alone offends him more than the impropriety of a widow
being courted,” she observed. “And a bishop’s courting will not involve much
romance, I would imagine. You would do better to consider my candidate, Letty,”
she teased.
    Letitia responded
to this sally with a smile, but still looked vexed. “This puts me in a very
uncomfortable situation, Isobel. Dr. Wolfe will surely present himself here,
and I will be obliged to be polite to him. I find the situation most
distasteful.”
    “I am in